Thanksgiving Day was spent in a truly memorable fashion. My colleague and I (along with Jason and the boys) walked a handful of the refugee students to our high school football game. We spent the morning explaining (in broken English, no less) the rules of
football and laughing at the antics of the mascots (trying explaining WHY we have a person dressed as a Ram pretend-fighting with a person dressed as a Bulldog to someone who doesn't understand much English yet). Man, it was truly good times. Afterwards, two of my colleagues and I visited some homes--in one morning/early afternoon, we sat in a Liberian home, a few Burmese homes (including one home church!), and a Muslim Burundi home. What a richness there is to life here in the city; I was so struck by the resource that these families are to our community...resources of wisdom, and contentment, and spirit, and resolve, and peace. I know I was particularly touched by the Burmese house church we stumbled upon. They sang (in English, we weren't sure if this was for our benefit) a familiar church chorus: "Let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich, because of what the Lord has done for us...give thanks." Looking around the 2 living rooms, over 50 Karen Burmese refugees seated on the floor in a makeshift, but strong, faith community, I realized again how little I know of true gratitude. I thought of this scene often through my own family Thanksgivings in the days that followed, where "richness" abounded (furniture, for one).
football and laughing at the antics of the mascots (trying explaining WHY we have a person dressed as a Ram pretend-fighting with a person dressed as a Bulldog to someone who doesn't understand much English yet). Man, it was truly good times. Afterwards, two of my colleagues and I visited some homes--in one morning/early afternoon, we sat in a Liberian home, a few Burmese homes (including one home church!), and a Muslim Burundi home. What a richness there is to life here in the city; I was so struck by the resource that these families are to our community...resources of wisdom, and contentment, and spirit, and resolve, and peace. I know I was particularly touched by the Burmese house church we stumbled upon. They sang (in English, we weren't sure if this was for our benefit) a familiar church chorus: "Let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich, because of what the Lord has done for us...give thanks." Looking around the 2 living rooms, over 50 Karen Burmese refugees seated on the floor in a makeshift, but strong, faith community, I realized again how little I know of true gratitude. I thought of this scene often through my own family Thanksgivings in the days that followed, where "richness" abounded (furniture, for one).The Friday after Thanksgiving we spent at our house, hosting all my sisters, their husbands, my mom, my buddy Val, and a new friend from
Camden Brent. It's always a great day when my sisters are around. Now that we are all scattering further and further apart, these days are fewer, and more precious. The highlight of the day for me was our Thanskgiving meal, a gourmet meal of my husband's grand design (pumpkin cheesecake...from REAL pumpkins, no less), and at the start of that meal, a family communion--the first communion for my sons. Really cool.
Camden Brent. It's always a great day when my sisters are around. Now that we are all scattering further and further apart, these days are fewer, and more precious. The highlight of the day for me was our Thanskgiving meal, a gourmet meal of my husband's grand design (pumpkin cheesecake...from REAL pumpkins, no less), and at the start of that meal, a family communion--the first communion for my sons. Really cool.Saturday we shared Thanksgiving with the Winchell family at Mom and Dad's (by that time, I was so tired, I forgot our camera!)...a beautiful day together, which revived me from near-exhaustion (not sure why, since I did so little of Friday's cooking). :)
Sunday was my 31st birthday, which passed in a lovely way...church, and then out to lunch with some good friends. Very quiet, but marked nonetheless (and if you know me well, you know that marking time is important to me). The boys and Jason gave me a new suit (my work uniform of choice daily), and renewed my gym membership.
Last week continued to be a connective week for me. I was with Val on Tuesday (we went to see Rob Bell in Boston...such a summative time of this season of my life, actually), Wednesday with my good friend Audra (with whom tears are always in order, such a dear and lovely friendship we share), and Thursday a reunion with my long-lost friend Susanna. I survived the week with very little sleep, as you can tell, and was relieved that Saturday was my long-scheduled quarterly "retreat day." I spent it first at the gym (it felt like heaven after a couple months away...aahhh, the pool!), and then Barnes and Noble, journaling, reading, praying, meditating. Much more could be said about all I learned this week about this past quarter of my life (a very difficult season, but one from which I am harvesting much, in the true spirit of fall, I suppose).
Today we welcomed the first Sunday of Advent with a candle-lighting in our home, as well as in church with Mom and Dad Winchell. Our Christmas tree is up and lit as I write this at the dining room table. Our boys are long since asleep. Jason sits here with me, also typing (did I mention he continues to plug away at his three grad courses?). The smell of pine. The quietness of evening. The calm of family and togetherness. And yet my thoughts tonight are with one of our sons--for whom peace and togetherness seem so elusive lately. In this Advent season, may all of us experience again the wide grace of Jesus...but especially, this Christmas, I'm praying for those, like our children, who need His healing particularly much. It's a particular angst, to be loved by the God of the universe, and feel it not. Jesus, save us all this Advent from that mistrusting confusion!
"And He shall be called Prince of Peace."
No comments:
Post a Comment